When you think you are addicted to being liked,

when you feel like the unimportant ones don't
like you.

When you feel sorry for yourself, for being loved
by only those who matter.

When you think all you have is not enough.

You're wrong, go to sleep.

Why should I keep writing, when
there is no one to write for.
All that I have written, made me
less attractive, made me hopeless

Chanceless, I feel so stupid, sad
and mistaken, does nobody
not a single girl, think I'm cute enough
to help me out of this sightless hole

Tell me I'm not useless, tell me there is
someone out there, tell me it's you.

I'd write about you, for you, with you, metaphores come automatically
Words arrange themselves when you bring them to me.
It's not necessary to like my writings, just be flattered that I'd do it for you.

Isn't that what really counts, counting the days till I see you
meet you, recognizing, each other, missing piece, long lost feelings
rejoined.

Join me in my journey, escape the nets of fishers, escape the cages of the zoo
escape the reservoirs. Together we could be unique creatures. Loved and hated
Adored, adore me like a cold sundae on a hot sunday.

Things have changed, while I have not,
thoughts will always linger, whereas others
didn't get a turn to. Perhaps I was, I sought,
always busy, looking on the wrong spot.

Though this is not what specifically bothers,
it is my need to be in progress, less as
my need to be in lead of who and what was
the origin of my attention, spread across the halls.

You should be flattered, you'll regret, the walls,
closing in, me, capable, wanting to sing, and leave
this demeaning museum of memories. A naive

form of hope, coating, a lot of time spent quoting,
in snow and rivers of misinterpret signs, floating,
or high above, it doesn't matter, I just **** at love.

Imagine yourself working hard, working
as if you were feeding your family of ten
How would you react the moment when
you're done, the reward, wine for uncorking

but the next day it's gone, everything is gone
you had a chance, were happy for all you
accomplished and it's gone. The worst drawn
feeling, known for and by, and there's nothing to

do, to try and change, but you don't try, because
why bother, it has left your life most likely lifelike like
facts, facts on the other side of a rushhouring road.
Loading, loading, new ideas in progress, a huge load

of chances coming up, but you're not even slightly interested
When the one important thing is gone, the rest falls along.

A mutilated vision, troubled past and
wrong decision, my place is where I
am not. But I can't choose and only by
wishing will my worries be banned.

Let's accept never being smooth, late
nights never go as planned, as if fate
picked me out to be unlucky, sad
for himself, selfpity terrorizes this lad!

Corners are not made for crying, but
why are they so perfect when you do?
Going blank, fever raises, save me,
tell me I'll be okay, comforted by your edges.

The way I am gives girls chances for choosing,
if I don't change, incapable of leading, I'll keep losing.

What is it coming to, when a village
can't have useless buildings, for how
long has it been tense and did she pillage
his time and attention, up until now.

It has passed the third beginning, close
to it's final end. Things he does not
decide himself go wrong, and a lot
goes wrong, the less he really knows

the better cause it hurts, every letter
every word in every sentence, makes
its way straight through his center, let her
be, let it all flow and pass instead of cutting

it out or tearing it loose, it's all decided, awakes
from a different dream, he starts shutting.